One Hell of a Landing
by I've-Gotta-Be-Me
Summary: Kurt Hummel makes his way onto the cover of "Life" magazine for reasons he hadn't expected. Upon meeting the new pilot at work, he is immediately intrigued and lustful. Will the romance and opportunity of Europe leave him satisfied or just wanting more?


_A/N: To any regular readers, I apologize for the pause in updates. Life has been especially crazy!_

_But I had time to make this little - or not so little - **one shot** that is completely and unabashedly inspired by the new series **"Pan Am"**. (Is anyone else watching? Already two episodes in and I'm hopelessly hooked!) So I thought it'd be fun to make a short little crossover. I didn't take it to seriously, just had some fun. I hope you enjoy it ;D_

* * *

><p>"I got the job!" Kurt yelled upon opening the front door.<p>

When no one answered him, he locked the door behind him and ventured further into the house. He wasn't surprised to find Carole in the kitchen, busy tending pots on all four burners on the stovetop.

"I got the job," he repeated in a more civil tone, but nonetheless excited. He could barely conceal the smile on his face.

"Honey, that's wonderful!" Carole said, wiping her hands on her apron before moving forward to embrace him. She was as thrilled as he was, all but hopping up and down with delight. "I knew you would get it. You have so much personality, how could you not?"

"It wasn't easy to convince them to hire me," Kurt replied. "But I was persistent. _Classy_, but persistent," he clarified. "Can you believe they didn't want to hire a man?"

"Oh, Kurt," Carole patted his arm. "It would take two hundred women to take your place."

"Thank you," replied with a wave of his hand. "And this…" He held up a black garment bag.

"Is that…?"

"It's my uniform," Kurt finished, too eager to wait for her to even complete her question.

"At least tell me you won't be wearing a skirt," Burt joked as he came into the kitchen.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I should have insisted on that aspect just for you, Dad."

"Please, not for my sake," Burt responded as he began to help Carole prepare dinner.

"But aren't you happy for me?" Kurt asked happily. "Do you know what this means?"

"Less of you around the house and more time spent in your own?" His dad replied sarcastically.

"Very funny," Kurt said. "You invited me over to dinner, remember? And I wanted you guys to be the first to know!"

"I vaguely remember," Burt mused aloud. He got a swat from Carole.

"That's enough out of you. For that, you'll be doing the dishes," she told her husband.

"I'm quaking in my boots…"

"Well I'm happy for you, darling," Carole said, turning her attention to Kurt as she began serving the food. "Oh if I could've been a stewardess in my day, I would have done it in a heartbeat." Her eyes shone with excitement.

"I'll show you the uniform after dinner," Kurt gushed. "I just got it back from the tailor. You'll love it. Blue really is my color, you know."

* * *

><p>Kurt gave a small twirl in front of the mirror, admiring himself from every angle possible. He smoothed down the front of his light blue slacks nervously. He'd ironed them within an inch of their life, but he wanted them to be absolutely perfect.<p>

He buttoned the topmost buttons on his crisp, white dress shirt, making sure the short sleeves were folded just right. Readjusting his matching blue bowtie as he gazed in the mirror, he dubbed himself presentable.

He couldn't say the same for his house. Newspapers were scattered everywhere, clothes hung on every available space in his bedroom, and he wasn't sure which dishes were clean or not in the kitchen anymore. But he didn't have time to worry about that; he only had fifteen minutes before he had to leave for work. He made due by tidying up the things that were closest to him and triple checking his bag to make sure he had everything.

He hastily filled the sink with hot water before going to work on the really stained dishes. Scrubbing faster than he thought could be possible, he'd gotten through the pile and began hand-drying them and piling them neatly.

The shrill ringing of the phone made him drop the plate he was putting away onto the floor so that it shattered into nothing but shards. Sighing deeply, he went to answer the phone from where it hung on the wall.

"Hello?" he said into the receiver.

"Kurt?" Carole asked, sounding as if she was out of breath.

"No, it's Paul Newman," Kurt said sarcastically, absent-mindedly wondering if the phone chord would allow him to reach the broom from where he was standing.

Carole was unperturbed by his attitude. "Honey, this is important."

Kurt stretched his arm out as far as he could, his fingertips brushing the handle of the broom.

"Well, it'd better be. I love you, Carole, but I'm a little preoccupied. I have to get to work soon and…"

"It'll only take a second," she assured him. "Have you gotten the mail today?"

Kurt grabbed the broom and cradled the phone between his ear and his shoulder skillfully.

"Honestly, you're calling me to ask me if I've gotten the mail? Carole, even for you, that's a little strange."

"Trust me, go get your mail," she instructed.

"Look, I'm going to be late to work already," he said as he scooped up the mess into the dustpan. "It can wait. The mail will just have to stay there until I get back on Thursday."

"Kurt," she said in her most authoritative voice. "Just put down the phone and go get the mail."

He took a deep breath. "_Fine_."

Putting down the receiver on the countertop and pausing to dump the broken glass into the trashcan, he walked out of the kitchen and straight towards the front door.

He jogged down the walkway and towards his mailbox, reaching inside to find mostly envelopes that looked like they contained bills and a few of his magazine subscriptions. Without glancing them over, he tucked them under his arm, shut the mailbox, and walked back into the house.

"Okay, I've got the mail," he informed Carole. "Can I go to work now?"

"Did you get your copy of _Life_?" she asked eagerly.

"I don't know, I suppose…" he said noncommittally as he sifted through the pile of mail again. He drew in a sharp breath.

"Kurt, are you still there?" Carole said on the other end of the line. But Kurt could barely hear her.

"Carole…" he gasped. He sagged against the counter, not sure if he could trust his own two feet to hold him up anymore. He was desperately hoping he was in some sort of bad dream. "Is that…I mean, that's _not_…"

"It's you!" she exclaimed. "I thought you would already know, seeing as you're on the _cover_, but you seem as surprised as I was! I just walked out to the mailbox this morning and there you were! There's a whole section dedicated to you: one of the first male stewards in years! Of course, they turned it into this big expose on reversed sexism or something like that, but anyways…Oh honey, I couldn't be more proud. I showed your dad and he was just _ecstatic_…" she babbled.

"But, I didn't even _pose_ for this picture..." Kurt marveled, staring at himself in all his glossy glory. "I mean, it just looks like they caught me while I was leaving work or something. Shouldn't they inform you if you're going to be on the cover of a major magazine?"

"Well how should I know?" Carole asked, completely unbothered by this revelation. "Who cares? You're on the cover of _Life_! How many people can say that?"

"I'd rather be on the cover because I actually did something," Kurt grumbled. "Not because I convinced some sexist employer to give me a job as a flight attendant." He leafed through the pages, scanning for this article she spoke of. "I mean, I'm not the first…"

"But it's for a huge airline company," Carole gushed. "You get seen by _hundreds_ of people a week. People talk."

"Yeah, well…" Kurt said, still unconvinced that this was a good thing. "I hope they only spoke about how lovely and well-mannered I was."

"Aren't you at least a little bit excited?" she asked.

Kurt gave up on the article, which _was_ in fact a piece about gender equality, and put the magazine face-down on the countertop.

"I am," he lied. "It's wonderful. I'm sure all my co-workers will be happy for me."

He knew that they'd probably be more jealous than anything, but he was going to be late already, so he had to say anything to get his step-mom off of the phone. He listened to a minute more of her happy chatter before excusing himself from the conversation.

"I have to run," he told her. "I love you. Tell Dad I said bye, will you? I'll be back in a few days!"

He hung up the phone, not caring about his manners as he dashed through the house, gathering up his bag, his blue uniform jacket and his matching blue hat. Desperately hoping he wasn't forgetting anything, he ran out the door, locking it behind him and tossing the spare key into his bag.

Without so much as a look back, he was speeding off to the airport.

He had a plane to catch.

* * *

><p>"You're the only man I know who can pull off this powder blue uniform," Rachel complained, straightening her hat for the umpteenth time.<p>

The only significant difference in the female uniform was that they wore a fitted skirt that went down almost to their knees. Kurt noticed that the male passengers on the plane usually didn't mind the uniform at all, but rather, had a hard time keeping their eyes away from it.

"It's a gift," Kurt told her.

"Yeah, he worked it all the way onto the cover of _Life_," Santana sneered from across the room.

Kurt cringed. "Can we not talk about that?" He felt himself turning red. "It was a mistake - let's just forget about it."

"We can't forget about it," Santana said. "It's already been delivered to who knows how many subscribers and it's being sold in the lobby." She turned to Brittany and lowered her voice. "Word is, they're selling out faster than a copy of _Playboy_."

"Yeah right," Kurt scoffed.

"No, seriously. Suzy asked me to help her restock them earlier," Rachel confirmed.

"I say it's a publicity stunt," he grumbled in response.

"Well of course it is," Santana said as if it were obvious. "You have no idea what that's going to do for the airlines. Promoting 'gender equality' and all of that other rubbish? People eat that shit up."

"_Santana_," Brittany scolded. "It's against guidelines to use that language."

"We're not on the clock yet," the dark-haired girl shot back. "And from the looks of it, it's going to be a _long_ flight."

"Yeah, it will be if you have your girdle on too tight," Kurt teased.

"Shut up," she snapped. "It's not like you have to wear one."

"Oh, I don't know. With all this 'gender equality' swarming around, they might change their policy and make me wear one, too. Then we can suffer together," he replied.

They all laughed at his joke before the ladies went back to applying their red lipstick.

"But seriously," Santana said, beckoning the other air hostesses towards her. "I heard there's new meat in today."

"Could you at least speak in normal terms?" Rachel complained. "Honestly."

"A new pilot" Santana said, raising her eyebrows. "And he's _handsome_. Single, too."

"Well that should be a new experience for you," Kurt quipped.

But suddenly his female co-workers were much more interested in fluffing their hair and putting on their make-up perfectly. Rachel was busy applying powder to her nose, Brittany was separating her eyelashes with a pin, and Santana was trying to subtly push up her cleavage.

"I want a shot with him," Santana declared.

Rachel moaned. "No fair. I wanted a chance with him."

"There's always the co-pilot, Finn," Brittany offered. "I thought you two were a thing."

"No, not really," Rachel frowned. "I mean, we've been on a few dates, but nothing's happened. I can't wait around forever, you know. I have needs."

"Ladies, ladies," Kurt addressed them. "Why all the fuss? You haven't even met this guy. He could be boring or rude or what if he's not even that attractive? Aren't you at all excited that we're going to Italy?"

"Been there," Santana waved him off.

"My fifth time," Rachel informed him. "It should be lovely this time of year."

"I think I've been there…" Brittany thought aloud. "It's that one with the funny tower, right?"

"Well _I've_ never been there," Kurt sniffed, crossing his legs from where he sat. "And I'm not going to let you boy-crazy ladies distract me from enjoying myself."

"We're here to work," Rachel said with determination. "Let's not forget that."

"My thoughts exactly," Kurt said to her. "Anyways, I doubt this new pilot is really as attractive as Santana claims. He could be an average schmuck for all we know."

* * *

><p>"Top of the morning," Blaine greeted the saleslady in the lobby. He tipped his hat politely.<p>

"Good morning, Captain," the lady replied, eyeing his uniform meaningfully.

There were magazines spread on the countertop, one overlapping the other. On the front was a glossy shot of a man in the airline uniform.

"This is one of our stewards?" Blaine asked her conversationally. "On the cover of _Life_?"

"Yes, I believe so," she answered.

"I think I'll buy this issue," he said, passing over a few bills. "Keep the change."

"Have a safe flight," she returned, still looking him over with a hint of lust in her eyes.

"Captain," a voice greeted him from behind.

"Finn," he addressed his co-captain. "How are you? Are we almost ready to start boarding?"

"Just about. I came to find you, actually," the taller boy replied.

"Oh?" Blaine asked, still flipping through the pages in the magazine and not paying much attention. "Hudson, I wasn't aware that we had male flight attendants. Were you?" He flashed his colleague the cover of the magazine.

Finn smiled. "That's my step-brother." He looked pleasantly surprised. "Mind if I take a look at that?" he asked, holding his hand out for the magazine.

"Sure thing," Blaine said, handing it over. "Look, that's not the point. I'm going to go tell the stewards to board the plane first and get ready to seat the passengers. I'll see you out there."

Without another word, he strode towards the employee area. He knocked lightly on the changing room door.

"Come in," he heard a voice say.

Preparing himself to deal with his new co-workers, he opened the door.

* * *

><p>Kurt wasn't prepared for what he saw. He'd seen men before. Many, <em>many<em> men. But he'd never seen a man like this before. Kurt allowed his eyes to fully appreciate all the stranger had to offer.

He had on clean, black slacks with perfect creases – the pockets of which he had his hands shoved into. On top he wore a broad shouldered black jacket with two rows of gold buttons and matching gold lines just above the ends of the sleeves. Secured just above the breast pocket was a circular pendant with wings. Atop his head was a white captain's hat with a black brim. It sat neatly over his black hair, which curled loosely beneath the rim of the hat.

He had golden, hazel eyes that seemed to shine with confidence. He looked like a man who knew exactly what he was doing and was in complete control. In the back of his mind, Kurt knew that someone who was going to fly a plan needed these assets, but at the moment he could help but find them solely…_sexy_.

His eyes fell on the captain's lips – his lips, of all places – and he couldn't help but notice that they looked extremely inviting. He observed how they curved as he smiled and how the corners quirked up knowingly. They looked soft and as if they'd kissed many people. How Kurt could tell that, he didn't know, but now all he was thinking of was how they would feel on _his_ lips.

He could feel himself gaping and quickly closed his mouth and folded his hands in his lap, trying to hide any evidence of his train of thought.

"It's nice to meet you ladies – and gentleman," the Captain said, addressing Kurt for the first time. "I know it's a lot of pressure today – new jet, new captain – but it's show time. Let's get out there, shall we?"

The ladies gathered their belongings in record time and filed out of the room. Kurt noticed Santana brushing up against Blaine suggestively as she passed, giving him a lingering look.

Realizing he was the last one in the room, Kurt grabbed his bag, slung his jacket over his arm and headed for the door. He was thrown when the Captain reached out to stop him.

"You're the one from the magazine, aren't you?" he asked.

"Oh, I…guess," Kurt answered lamely.

"I'm Blaine," the Captain replied, holding out a hand. "Blaine Anderson."

Kurt accepted it after a moment. "I'm Kurt Hummel…sir," he added as an after-thought.

"So you're the face of the airline now?" Blaine joked, giving Kurt a devastatingly dazzling smile.

"Oh, don't say that," Kurt rolled his eyes. "That picture was a complete accident."

"How long have you been flying?" Blaine asked. "Just out of curiosity."

Kurt looked down, feeling embarrassed. "For about three weeks, actually." He felt himself blushing. "That's why the cover is so stupid. I was just walking to my car from the parking lot…I wasn't even posing. It's ridiculous." He was rambling, he knew, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Ah, nonsense," Blaine told him. "You made an excellent picture." He gave Kurt a quick wink.

"Thanks…" Kurt said, more confused now than ever.

Could the girls have been wrong about the new pilot? Was it Kurt, in fact, who had a chance with Blaine instead of his female co-workers? He knew he shouldn't be jumping to conclusions, but the way Blaine was staring at him…It seemed very direct.

"Maybe we'll talk more when we land?" Blaine prompted. "I'd love to chat, but I have to go prepare a plane to fly. And you have to go out there and just look good," he joked. "That shouldn't be too hard for you, though."

"I suppose not," Kurt teased. "If only that was the whole job. Then maybe I'd get a raise."

The pair chuckled. Kurt gave Blaine one last look before walking past him and hurrying off after his friends. He felt Blaine's eyes on him the entire way as he crossed the lobby and slipped through the glass doors.

Upon boarding the plane and putting away his own belongings, he joined the girls in fluffing the cushions, preparing the beverages and food, and the other things they'd try to sell the passengers on the long flight. Among the products were countless copies of the very _Life_ magazine that was attracting so much attention to Kurt.

"Ugh, can't we just bury those?" he groaned, trying – unsuccessfully – to try and hide them under other magazine issues.

"Unfortunately not," a voice said from beside him.

"Quinn?" he asked. "You're on this flight?"

"I just got called in to replace someone this morning," she said, giving him a small smile. "Luckily I didn't have plans."

"Well we're always happy to have you here," Kurt said, using his patented steward charm. "Just play nice with Rachel."

"I'll be civil if she is," Quinn responded, straightening out a few other products.

Kurt rolled his head and headed back towards the cockpit. He grabbed Rachel by the arm and pulled her aside.

"Quinn's here," he whispered.

"What? She was supposed to have the week off…" Rachel looked worried. "I bet she'll be after Finn again, that little wh -"

"Hey," Kurt cut her off. "Behave yourself. I know you've both dated Finn, but let's just make it through this flight without a hitch, alright? Smile through it."

Rachel took a deep breath and gave Kurt a wide grin.

"That's my girl," he said before walking back to the plane entrance to greet the passengers. Plastering a smile on his face, he took the first woman's ticket. "Hello, welcome aboard…"

* * *

><p>Nearly ten hours later – a small catfight between Rachel and Quinn, three spilled glasses of champagne, two lost kids, and seven misplaced suitcases later – they finally landed on Italian soil.<p>

Kurt waited until every single passenger had disembarked and everything was accounted for before exiting the plane himself. The crew was booked to stay in a nearby hotel, so he was going to catch a cab with his co-workers. They all squeezed in, and with a help from Rachel, who was trilingual, they finally made it to the hotel after a short drive.

It began to rain steadily and all the girls ran into the building, using their suitcases for shelter against the sudden downpour.

Kurt, however, stayed standing on the hotel steps and staring out at the city. It was already nightfall and the city was alight. The Italian landscape was completely different from back home; it felt as different as can be, as if it were a part of history. He could hear the hustle and bustle of traffic, hear mixed spurts of Italian from passerby – it felt alive and fresh.

"First time in Italy?" a vaguely familiar voice asked from beside him.

"Yeah," he responded, glancing over at Blaine. He was still decked out in his pilot uniform, for which Kurt was entirely grateful. "It's beautiful."

"It is," Blaine agreed.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to it," Kurt said. "Flying from state to state, to completely different continents, half-way across the world…Then just going home a couple of days later like it's nothing." He laughed to himself. "I love my job."

"And I love mine," Blaine mused.

"Congratulations, by the way," Kurt said.

"For what?"

"For not killing us," Kurt smirked. "That has to be the pilot's ultimate goal, right?"

Blaine laughed along. "Yeah, it is. Besides, it'd be a shame if we lost you, wouldn't it?"

Kurt found himself blushing again. "Not really. I mean, people would remember me. I'd be known as 'that guy on the cover of _Life_'."

"An esteemed title," Blaine joked.

"Very," Kurt agreed. "So have you taken your pick of hostesses yet?" he asked breezily. "I think I saw you eyeing Santana onboard. I'm warning you though, if you choose her, you might want to use protection."

Blaine laughed out loud. "No, I'm not interested in Santana. Maybe she was standing in front of the person I was really looking at."

"And who's that?" Kurt asked.

"I'm looking at him right now," Blaine replied, staring pointedly at Kurt.

"Okay, yeah right," Kurt wrote him off. "You can stop with your little mind game, or whatever that is."

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Blaine replied.

Kurt shook his head in disbelief. "You have four of the most attractive flight attendants – all with reputation, mind you – just sitting up there in their hotel rooms. It's not exactly a secret what happens after the plane touches down. Trust me, the ladies talk."

"I still don't get where you going with this," Blaine said. "Are you turning me down?"

"I'm just saying," Kurt said, turning towards the Captain. "There are beautiful girls up there, willing to do heaven knows what just to get a piece of you, and you're here mocking me and pretending to come onto me." He crossed his arms. "I can see right through you."

"Look, Kurt," Blaine took a step towards him, "I'm not interested in the flight attendants, okay? Just come upstairs with me and we'll talk."

Kurt gave an exaggerated laugh. "As if the second you get me in the room we'll be doing any talking."

"That's the plan," Blaine said bluntly. "But is that such a bad thing?"

"I don't know," Kurt mused. "Maybe I'm not that easy to win over."

"You're lonely," Blaine stated. "So why choose to be? No one wants to alone in Italy," he smirked.

"Sometimes you have to get used to being alone," Kurt said softly.

"Come on," Blaine insisted, grabbing Kurt by the hand and leading him into the hotel.

It was more beautiful even on the inside; every surface seemed to be made of gleaming marble with shining gold accents. But they didn't pause to admire the lobby as they made straight for the elevator.

"So do you pick up many men as a pilot?" Kurt teased as they began their ascent.

"I wouldn't know. This is the first time, remember?" Blaine grinned. "But when I do, I make it a point to find the ones who've been on the covers of magazines."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "That damn magazine."

The doors opened, revealing an ornately carpeted hallway before them. Blaine led him towards the second door on the left-hand side.

"I haven't even checked into my own room," Kurt realized, fingering the strap of his bag.

Blaine inserted the key into the lock and glanced back at Kurt. "Doesn't matter."

"Well maybe it matters to me," Kurt replied coyly as he wandered into Blaine's room and dropped his bag on the floor. He turned around to face Blaine again "I didn't even get to ch - "

But he never got the chance to say anything else because Blaine's mouth was on his and, _oh_, it was better than he imagined. He was being pushed up against the wall and Blaine's chest was pressed flush against his. Kurt couldn't even remember what he was about to complain about because he found himself cupping Blaine's face and bringing him closer because he needed more. He needed _much_ more.

"Clothes are inconsequential," Blaine said quickly. He grabbed the lapels of Kurt's uniform jacket and began tugging at them until the mass of wet material hit the floor.

Then his lips were back on Kurt's, insistent and controlling. It was like immersing himself in a completely new language. Blaine's mouth was doing things Kurt didn't even know were possible. Like the way he ran his tongue across Kurt's lower lip or the way his teeth nipped at him occasionally. Or maybe it was the way his hands were resting on Kurt's waist and holding him captive against the wall.

Perhaps it was the sharp breaths he took in if Kurt tilted his head a certain way or the way he tensed ever so slightly when Kurt's tongue collided with his. Kurt let his fingers wander up Blaine's neck until he reached the obtrusive Captain's hat. With one fluid motion, Kurt swept the hat off to join his jacket on the building pile of clothes on the floor.

Blaine hands were already busy undoing Kurt's white shirt with sure fingers as his mouth trailed down Kurt's neck. Kurt drew in a breath as Blaine's teeth trailed along the skin of his throat. Soon his shirt had been added to the pile.

As Blaine continued licking and sucking his way all the way to Kurt's earlobe, Kurt busied himself by taking off Blaine's jacket. When the Captain was free from the garment, Kurt let his hands roam freely over Blaine's chest, now only barricaded by one layer of clothing. He kept himself from all but ripping the shirt off Blaine, fumbling with the buttons and pulling it off in a jumbled mess.

Kurt decided to take charge and pressed both hands against Blaine's damp chest, forcing him backwards. He blindly led him towards the bed until Blaine's calves hit the footboard and they were falling onto the mattress. They broke apart as Kurt set his hands to the zipper of Blaine's slacks.

"Are you sure about this?" Kurt panted, not wanting to stop at all. "Isn't this wrong?"

"What do you think?"

Kurt didn't bother responding. Instead he brought Blaine's mouth back to his own and kissed him fiercely. He knew no moral inhibition could justify missing this – this onslaught of fire and desire that he didn't even know he had within him. He didn't question himself as he straddled Blaine and pinned his wrists against the mattress.

The second their hips met, their mouths began to move more frantically, taking all the other could possibly offer. In the back of his mind, Kurt could feel small traces of pain and he knew that his lips would be swollen the next day, but he couldn't ask Blaine to stop. It all felt so surreal – so _good_.

Using a fair amount of willpower, he ripped his lips away from Blaine's mouth and began to move southward – and with a destination in mind, too. He smirked to himself when Blaine squirmed beneath him as he set his lips to the Captain's neck. Pausing to map out each hollow and patch of skin there, he settled in until Blaine's breathing was ragged, ghosting over the other man's collarbone with his lips and freely utilizing his mouth in every single way possible.

Continuing lower, he tentatively drew one of Blaine's nipples into his mouth and began to use his teeth to his advantage. He wasn't sure how this was being received, but was encouraged when Blaine let out a low moan and arched his back to give Kurt better leverage. Chuckling to himself, Kurt turned his attention to the other side of Blaine's chest, giving it the same tantalizing attention until Blaine was all but _begging_ him for more.

He released Blaine's wrists, dragging his nails down the other man's forearms then further down his chest, letting them rest on Blaine's waist. He hesitated only briefly, knowing he couldn't take what he was about to do back. But he couldn't bring himself to care all that much as he reached into Blaine's pants.

Common sense had flown out the window as soon as he wrapped his hand around Blaine's already-hard length. It was warm in his hands and the skin was surprisingly soft. It only took a minute for him to assimilate with the new member of Blaine's anatomy before he moved his hand ever so slightly. He wouldn't classify it as a whole movement, but rather almost a mere twitch of his hand.

Kurt heard Blaine take in a sharp breath as he shifted his hand again, slowly teasing. As slow as he possibly could, he ran his hand up the length of Blaine's erection. When he thought he couldn't move any slower, he would focus on taking his pace down by a fraction, if possible.

In truth, he wasn't being intentionally cruel to Blaine; he was merely trying to keep _himself_ in check. From the very short time he'd spent with Blaine so far, he could tell that his instincts tended to lean more towards animalistic if he wasn't careful. But on the other hand, what did it matter?

With a wicked smile and a glance upwards, he lowered his mouth to take the place of his stroking hand. The very _second_ his lips touched the tip of Blaine's cock, he heard the Captain's breathing go shallow. Gaining confidence in himself, he took Blaine deeper into the cavern of his mouth, daring to run his tongue along the underside and savoring the taste – a hint of a salty aftertaste, but wholly Blaine. It was delectable - almost mouth-watering - and absolutely indescribable.

He felt Blaine's fingertips brushing against his hair as if they wanted to grab hold. He paused in his oral exploration to look up at Blaine and give him a devilish grin.

"You can grab my hair, you know," he informed Blaine. "I kind of like it," he said with a quirk of his eyebrows.

As soon as Kurt set back to work, figuring out just how and where to use his tongue and teeth – and how much pressure was just right – Blaine didn't need to be told twice. He latched onto Kurt's brown locks, tugging on them when Kurt did something right. Kurt braced Blaine's thighs as he took him in deeper, sucking lightly and dragging his teeth along the underside. Doing so made Blaine shudder beneath him.

Kurt sat up a bit and slowly drew a finger into his mouth very deliberately. Blaine watched as Kurt gave his own finger the same treatment as he'd been giving Blaine's cock a few seconds prior – running his tongue over the edge, and moving it back and forth behind his lips. Blaine was squirming just watching as Kurt sucked on his own finger in such a suggestive fashion and impatiently reached down to touch himself.

Kurt watched in amusement for a second as Blaine slowly jerked himself off as he added another finger to his mouth. Their eyes met with such intensity that they seemed to be sending a message to one another. The message was clear: "_I'm pretending it's you_."

Without so much as one word of exchange, Kurt bent back down and took Blaine's cock into his mouth without any hesitation. He was being rough now, almost jamming it down his throat and taking Blaine in as far as he could. He moved his lips quickly, until they almost felt sore. He had Blaine bucking beneath him when he moved his fingers down to Blaine's entrance.

He slowly traced the edges, not wanting to rush into anything and cause Blaine any unnecessary pain. He heard Blaine mumbling unintelligible words from above as he moved his still-slick finger until it was hovering over its destination.

"K-Kurt," Blaine panted.

It was the most beautiful word Kurt had ever heard in his entire life. His name had been said countless times: when a teacher called roll, when his father scolded him, or when a friend called him from down a hallway. But never had he heard it being uttered by such a beautiful man. A beautiful man who was lying beneath him, susceptible to the very touch of his fingertips and breathing out his name.

And not only breathing out his name, but making it sound completely broken. Not as if it were an ordinary name, but as if it were a _plea_; changing every syllable and barely being able to utter it as he asked Kurt to take as he wanted – to _do_ as he wanted.

So Kurt obliged.

He pressed his finger to Blaine's entrance, causing Blaine to give out a cry just from the tiny amount of pressure. Not letting his mouth move from Blaine's cock, he inserted the finger with caution, taking it inch by inch and gauging the response.

On the contrary, Blaine seemed relaxed; he readjusted around the new addition easily as Kurt slid it even further. Resuming the even rhythm of his mouth, Kurt began to withdraw his finger slowly - to Blaine's hiss – only to reinsert it with renewed enthusiasm. He felt Blaine tense up, but then relax again as he began to slowly build up pace.

When he was sure Blaine could take it, Kurt tentatively entered another finger, making sure to wet it first. He could hear Blaine swearing underneath his breath as the other man clenched around his fingers momentarily. Kurt waited for the cursing to die down before picking back up his tempo. Simultaneously, he let his tongue glide along the underside of Blaine's cock, tracing directly across the prominent vein there. His movement was light as a feather, but he could feel Blaine writhing against the pillow in response.

He was hard just watching and feeling Blaine all around him. The noises he was making were infectious and his reactions were strong enough to make Kurt's toes curl. Kurt was rubbing against the mattress as his mouth and hands were at work, feeling just about ready to burst.

He abruptly pulled back, withdrawing his fingers and removing his mouth with a flourish. He moved up the mattress and collapsed besides Blaine, chuckling as he realized how hard both of them were breathing.

"What the…?" Blaine began to ask.

"I need some relief," Kurt panted. He gestured down to his uniform slacks which were now painfully tight and blatantly revealing the outline of his erection. "I mean, I _really_ need some relief."

Blaine grinned, only too happy to please. Kurt was feeling a little smug as Blaine straddled him, his arms settled on either side of Kurt's head.

Blaine drew closer, looking down the bridge of his nose and those devastatingly long lashes at Kurt's lips as if they were a prize. Or as if they were water in the middle of a desert and, oh, was Blaine thirsty. He was gazing at Kurt's lips hungrily, teasing and only brushing just barely against them with his own. Kurt could feel Blaine's hot breath against his face, but was denied the sweetness of his mouth.

He was shocked when he felt pressure against his crotch. While he'd been distracted by Blaine's taunting lips, the Captain had moved a hand to press against the Kurt's pants. He unleashed an onslaught on Kurt's sensations.

As he bent low to kiss Kurt roughly, he began palming him furiously through his slacks. He bit down on Kurt's lower lip hard, drawing it into his mouth and sucking on it in a fashion that made Kurt shudder. Then, before he knew it, Blaine's mouth was no longer there.

"Captain," Blaine said in a gravely voice.

"What?" Kurt asked, extremely disoriented.

"I'm still the Captain," Blaine repeated, with a curl of his lips. "And you'll address me as so."

"I don't understand," Kurt replied.

Blaine bent down to whisper directly into Kurt's ear. "Tell me what you want," he whispered.

"I want it all…" Kurt said, licking his lips in anticipation. "…Captain."

"I like that," Blaine growled before capturing Kurt's lips again.

Kurt wrapped an arm around Blaine's neck, pulling him closer as their kisses became progressively messier and harder. Blaine was fumbling with the zip of Kurt's pants before finally getting them undone. He hastily shoved them down and Kurt happily kicked them off.

Blaine's hands were in his hair, on his face, lying on his waist. They were everywhere – constantly moving and exploring; pinching, caressing, and grazing every inch of Kurt's skin until he felt sensitive and raw.

Kurt watched in fascination as Blaine licked his hand from the bottom of his palm to the very fingertips. He reached down, pushing Kurt's underwear aside and grabbing his hard length. Kurt tensed from the shock of skin on skin momentarily before Blaine began moving his hand. And, boy, did he know what he was doing.

He squeezed and moved expertly. He gripped Kurt's excruciatingly painful erection tightly and moved his hand up and down the entirety of it. He trailed his fingers down below and all the way to the tip. Kurt bit down on Blaine's lip in ecstasy as Blaine started a hasty rhythm, moving the circle of his hand faster.

Kurt's breathing wasn't normal and he knew he was making noises that he should have been ashamed of. Should have been, but he wasn't; not in the slightest. He held Blaine tighter, kissing him harder every time he moved in just the right way. Every inch of his body was warm, as if alight with fire in every single place that Blaine's bare body connected with his.

He moved his hips, silently encouraging Blaine to do something more. He dug his fingernails into Blaine's waist and gritted his teeth, feeling dangerously close to the edge.

But just before he could find release, he felt Blaine flipping him over.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked, voice muffled by the pillows. He felt a sharp tug of his hair. "What are you doing, _Captain_?" Kurt corrected himself.

"You said you wanted it all," Blaine said from behind him. "So that's what you're going to get."

Kurt felt his heart speed up at Blaine's words, but he didn't know what to expect. When he felt a wetness on his lower back, he had to grip the pillow for support. Blaine's mouth was on his spine; he was sure of it.

Blaine was trailing his lips down Kurt's back, down over his backside – a particularly thrilling sensation, if Kurt could say so himself – and straight towards his entrance. Kurt's underwear was at his knees now and Blaine was only too happy to remove them completely before pressing his lips to the coveted spot.

Kurt gasped and bit down on the pillow to stifle a cry. He could feel Blaine's tongue swirling around and tracing the edges of his entrance, licking and sipping openly. Unconsciously, he spread his knees further apart, silently welcoming Blaine closer.

He could feel Blaine's hands resting high up on his thighs, stroking lightly to match the rhythm of his tongue. He whimpered slightly into the pillow as he felt Blaine's tongue going deeper and just barely penetrating his entrance. Kurt bit down on his lip as he felt Blaine lapping at the spot, his tongue darting in and out and gradually going further inside, bit by bit, second by agonizing second.

He moved his hips against Blaine's mouth roughly, hoping he would get the message. He heard Blaine chuckle – no, _felt_ Blaine chuckle; the vibrations it sent through his body were tantalizing – before adding a finger.

Kurt sucked in a breath, his brain reeling around that singular point of sensuality as Blaine began developing a rhythm. He would alternate his tongue with his finger so that there was a never-ending pressure inside of him. At one point, Blaine pressed both inside of him at the same time, pumping his hand progressively faster and making desperate noises as he practically _attacked_ Kurt with his mouth.

Kurt couldn't exactly protest because he was enjoying it too much. He'd reached the point where his pain threshold was far in the back of his mind and his body was saying one thing – and one thing only – _More, more more._

He knew he should be embarrassed by his sporadic breathing, but Kurt couldn't bring himself to care in the slightest. He dug his fingers into the bedspread, clinging onto the fabric as his only means of support as Blaine added yet another digit. A delicious shiver ran down his spine, from his hairline to his tailbone as he realized that he wasn't the only one making inappropriate noises; Blaine was practically moaning into his ass as if he were enjoying it just as much, if not more.

Kurt pressed his hips into the mattress, subtly grinding against it and creating friction against his aching erection. The added movement was almost enough to put him over the edge right there and then, it felt so _damn_ good.

He was about five seconds from coming all over that horrible floral bedspread when all of a sudden the pressure was removed. He whined in protest as he felt Blaine shifting behind him. He briefly considered sticking his own fingers up his ass to finish himself off, but he rathered Blaine would do the honors since he was so skilled.

His impatience was rewarded when Blaine knelt back over him and whispered into his ear to relax. The tickle of Blaine's warm breath on his earlobe made Kurt flush, but he did as instructed, being able to predict what would be coming next. He took a deep breath and exhaled, only imagining what Blaine could look like knelt behind him. Just the thought made his cock twitch in anticipation.

He felt the tip of Blaine's length nudging at his backside – that appendage that he'd had the honor and privilege to memorize with both his tongue and hand – and gasped slightly when it penetrated his entrance by a mere inch. Within seconds, it was deeper and Kurt was readjusting around it, feeling just how tight was around Blaine. But it felt good, they meshed together well, slow process aside.

Blaine's hands were resting on Kurt's lower back, pressing against the tense muscles in such a way that elicited a groan from the back of Kurt's throat. He inched further and further within Kurt, always pausing briefly to let Kurt catch his breath.

The slight burning died away quickly as Kurt took in the foreign addition – it was becoming familiar in record time. He cried out a bit as Blaine shifted behind him again, withdrawing slightly only to plunge back in. The warmth that flooded his body was beyond pleasant, it was borderline addictive. As soon as it died away, he knew he needed more and he needed it fast.

"Move," he mumbled into the pillow, trying to regulate his shallow breaths.

His only answer was a sharp tug of his hair.

"_Captain_," Kurt said through gritted teeth. All the same, he felt Blaine's body practically vibrating with satisfaction at the name.

Blaine did indeed begin moving slowly, extracting himself almost completely – and leaving Kurt feeling extremely barren – before thrusting back inside with renewed aggressiveness. Kurt swallowed a scream from the pain – the addictive, aching pain that he would never admit he actually craved – and waited for it to ebb away.

Blaine was relentless. Kurt could hear the other man's breathing increase in tempo as he held Kurt down and began to ride him. He could hear Blaine grunting slightly and feel the slight sheen of perspiration on the Captain's hands; those broad, rough hands that kept him in place as they moved together.

Blaine had taken it upon himself to lower his lips to Kurt's back as he increased the tempo of his hips. Without any warning whatsoever, he bit down on Kurt's shoulder, educing a sharp intake of breath from the steward. In the same breath, he moved his mouth down Kurt's spine, leaving a wet trail of kisses downward, sucking and using his tongue as he did so. Kurt shuddered as Blaine's mouth reversed its pathway and went back up, pausing to latch onto the crook of his shoulder and settle in to feast there. Kurt was sure there'd be a mark in the morning, but that was the very least of his concerns at the moment.

His skin was wet beneath Blaine's insistent mouth and he began meeting Blaine's forceful thrusts with an intensity all his own. He hitched his knees up against the bed, practically offering his ass up to Blaine to give him more leverage. The Captain was only too happy to oblige, holding Kurt's legs in place and going at it even faster than before.

Kurt whined and buried his face in the pillows. His fingers knotted in the bedspread and his knees dug into the mattress until they were sore. Every muscle in his body was clenching and unclenching as Blaine took him from behind. Sweat beaded his forehead and his feet were cramping from being flexed so hard. It was more than he'd ever bargained for; pain, pleasure, give, take, and fire all wrapped up into one.

Blaine's hands roamed over the swell of Kurt's ass before letting one hand reach down beneath him. Kurt moaned loudly as Blaine began stroking his swollen erection. The relief of the action almost made him come immediately, but he held off, knowing he wasn't done just yet.

Blaine's hand squeezed Kurt's cock tightly, very nearly suffocating it. If it weren't for the wet stickiness already coating Kurt's erection, it might have hurt. Blaine knew exactly what he was doing as he moved his hand faster to match each of his thrusts within Kurt. Each time Kurt whined, he'd only tighten his grip and stroke with more conviction, almost desperate to bring Kurt to completion.

He didn't have to wait long as Kurt gave out a scream and came hard, spilling over Blaine's fist, over the covers and over his own stomach as well. He was shaking with the intensity of it, emptying his load in its entirety as his stomach heaved. He could feel himself convulsing even after he was finished and was overcome with the sensation as Blaine came inside of him.

Kurt gasped as he felt the warm liquid surging inside of him, fast as lightning and forceful. He didn't know he could contain so much inside of him, but apparently he could as Blaine continued to move within him, even through his orgasm. Gradually the movement got lesser and lesser and Kurt could detect the other man quaking as well and panting just as hard as he would.

Kurt couldn't bring himself to feel used or regretful; on the contrary, he felt like he'd just discovered a secret or unearthed a treasure that was meant only for his eyes. He felt like that damned cover on the magazine might just have been the best thing to happen to him in all of his years. Because nothing – and he meant nothing – could ever negate what had just happened.

He rolled over, careful to avoid his own mess, and let his head drop onto the pillow. Running his fingers through his hair he gave a content sigh, basking in his own afterglow.

"So it's true then," Blaine mused from the other side of the bed.

Kurt gave a breathy chuckle. "What's true?"

"You really do give the best service."

"Excuse you," Kurt glanced at Blaine from beneath his hands. "That wasn't part of my job," he joked.

"Nor mine," Blaine returned with a smug grin. "But I have a feeling it's going to become a big part of it."

* * *

><p>Kurt woke up in his own room, the sunlight streaming in through the ornate window. He was sore all over, his lips were particularly chapped, and his joints cracked as he sat up.<p>

Another day, another flight.

Without even getting to so much as tour the city, he'd be off again by noon to another European city. Not feeling particularly regretful - there'd always be more Italy trips -, he began to repack his back (what little he _had_ unpacked after he'd stumbled back to his bedroom in the wee hours of the morning, that is).

Donning his blue uniform yet again, he joined his fellow coworkers in the lobby as they checked out. He listened with a smile as they chatted amicably about the sights and tastes of Italy. As Kurt had suspected, a couple of the stewardesses had seduced – or been seduced by – an Italian stranger and were now launching into details of their "frivolities".

"So what about you?" Rachel asked Kurt, noting his silence. "Did you go sight-seeing like you planned? Did you fall in love with Italy?"

"No, I just stayed in," Kurt lied, feeling a blush creep across his face.

"Liar," Santana accused, scrutinizing him. "No one stays in their hotel room when they're in Italy for the first time."

Before Kurt could come up with a suitable excuse, their conversation was interrupted by a certain pilot.

He was suited back up in his dark uniform, looking sharp as ever and his white Captain's hat sitting perched on top of his curls yet again. Kurt could practically feel his co-workers sighing at the sight beside him, and for once he was completely with them on the sentiment.

"Ladies," Blaine addressed them with a tip of said hat. "Kurt," he added with a subtle wink. "I trust you all slept well and are prepared to usher our passengers to the next city."

The girls laughed, even though Blaine really hadn't said anything all that funny. They were batting their eyelashes and Kurt was sure Santana was even rubbing her chest against Blaine's arm as she gave him a smoldering glance – all of which Blaine steadfastly ignored.

"We're ready, Captain," Quinn answered with a sweet smile.

"Never been better," Brittany added.

"Can't _wait_ to see the sights," Santana purred.

"Fantastic, I'll see you all at take off then," Blaine said with a dashing smile. He turned his attention to Kurt and began straightening the lapels of the steward's blue jacket. "I'll see _you_ in Paris," he said with an evil glint in his eye.

"Definitely," Kurt responded, ducking his head slightly. "Sounds like a plan."

Blaine gave him one last lingering look before walking away.

"What was _that_?" Rachel asked, staring after Blaine's shrinking form.

"Nothing," Kurt said quickly before turning away. "He's just being polite."

Santana scoffed. "Polite my a - "

"And we should be off, shouldn't we?" Kurt interjected with a bit too much enthusiasm.

As his co-workers began exiting the hotel, Rachel stayed behind and linked her elbow through Kurt's.

"He wasn't just being friendly, was he?" she asked knowingly.

Kurt hesitated. "Let's just say…it's going to be a _long_ flight."

* * *

><p><em>AN: I have no idea what just happened but I think I liked it? (;_

**_Review and let me know!_**


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